


There and Back again- A dwarven King's tale

by orphan_account



Series: Ideas that will probably not be continued [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Gen, M/M, in which Smaug never came, the battle of moria still happened, there's magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Bilbo's 33rd birthday and he is about to receive the item that would undoubtedly lead him to his fated soulmate.</p><p>Thorin, however, has long ago given up to find his other half, as he one day gets a visit from none other then Gandalf the Grey.</p><p>It was of no import on how they had met, because somehow they had to make this work, despite their cultural differences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There and Back again- A dwarven King's tale

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, so I am really proud of this one. Like really.

It was with a well rested feeling that he woke up. He stretched, blinking a bit at the ray of light that fell on his face. Yawning slightly, he curled up again, pulling the covers of his bedding over his head. For a few blissful moments he slipped back into a dream-like state, before awareness kicked in. Carefully he cast a glance out his round window, seeing that the sun was almost at his zenith. He had slept in!

  
 Quickly he scrambled out of bed, kicking the sheets out of the way, other sounds now finally filtering in. He could hear the birds chirping outside, his mother's laugh from the kitchen, as she prepared lunch, his father probably grumbling about something again.

  
 The clothes he was supposed to wear for his birthday were carefully put on, then he opened the door to his bedroom as quietly as he could, darting out to disappear into the bathroom. This way he didn't see his parents sharing a look and rolling their eyes at his unpredictability.

  
  
"I still think we should have woken him up earlier. It's his coming of age! My father had roused me with the waking of the first birds that day, you know?" Bungo Baggins complained. He usually complained these days, but his wife was used to it by now.

  
"You were fairly early on the list, if I remember correctly. But today, a lot of hobbits are coming of age. He is not expected until early evening." Belladonna didn't stop once puttering around the kitchen, preparing everything. "Oh, how I hope his intended is already of age! This way we could meet him right away!" There was a rustling of paper as the hobbit looked up to follow his wife with his eyes.

  
"What do you mean, meet 'him'? He will bring a nice hobbit lass home. He is a Baggins, dear. I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be Lobelia."

  
Belladonna stopped in her tracks and shook her head at her husband. That the hobbit hadn't seen that his son was not at all interested in the girls that were batting his eyes at him. "Bilbo and Lobelia are childhood friends, dear." She finally said, as if it explained anything. Bungo understood her anyways, rolling his eyes a bit. Belladonna kissed his cheek, darting off again with a smile on her face, leaving her husband smiling himself.

  
 The low shuffling of a pair of feet in the doorway to the kitchen drew both of their attentions away from their current activities. "Bilbo, my boy! You look handsome in these clothes!" His mother gushed, dancing towards her son. She ignored his protests, smoothing his unruly curls down, fussing over vest and trousers until Bilbo fidgeted too much and his father saved him from her well-meant mothering. "Let him breathe a bit, my dear."

  
But he had every right to fidget! The dark blue vest over his white shirt and the brown trousers that reached down to his ankles didn't suit him at all. He would have loved to put on his favourite green waistcoat and shorter trousers. Even the small golden threat and buttons with flowers carved on them seemed too much.

  
Soon after, Bilbo was ushered to the table, sitting across his father. "I apologize for being late. I didn't intend to sleep that long." The young hobbit said, growing restless soon after sitting down.

  
 "Are you alright? Bilbo, this is a joyous occasion! Smile a bit." His father tried to encourage him, but all Bilbo managed was a slight grimace. His mother's laugh pulled him out of it again.

  
"It's okay to be a bit afraid. I wasn't in high spirits either that day. But I promise you, it is all worth it in the end." Here, she smiled lovingly at her husband and Bilbo felt like an intruder, choosing to look into another direction instead. The curtains sure looked interesting today, he mused, as he heard his parents giggle.

  
"It's just that, uhm" Bilbo tried, but closed his mouth again. His mother laid a hand on his, a silent encouragement. "No one has really caught my eye. What if my soulmate is already married or even from another race? What do I do then?"

  
Belladonna sighed. Her son voiced the same insecurities she had had. "You do what your item requieres you to do. Don't you worry about who your soulmate will be. They will be perfect for you."

  
"We will support you no matter what." His father added, laying his hand atop Belladonna's. "They will get a stern talking to, and I don't care if hobbit, dwarf, man or elf."

  
"Thank you." Bilbo whispered, tears gathering in his eyes that he wiped away quickly. His father nodded once, and his mother went back to cook.

  
"Lunch is almost ready, boys!" Belladonna laughed as she heard their stomachs grumbling, the males smiling at each other ruefully.

  
  
  
By now, Thorin had given up on finding his soulmate. At 178, he was fully prepared to rule and eventually, die alone. The line of Durin was secured with his beloved sister-sons, which had been a perfect solution to arranged marriages forced upon him. Seriously, just because his mate had not been announced to him yet, there was no reason to assume that they were dead. But if he was perfectly honest with himself, he doubted that and instead thought that there simply wasn't anyone whom fate had deigned him as an equal.

  
The dwarfen king sighed. He did not understand why these thoughts were plaguing him now, when he was supposed to listen to his council. Again, they were talking about the markets and how they could actually spend less and save more gold. Erebor was wealthy, unparalled so in this part of Middle Earth, and Thorin was tired. His heir, Fili, was slowly falling asleep next to him, so he kicked him not so lightly against one leg. By Mahal, he couldn't blame him. He shot an expressive look at Balin, silently pleading at him to help him end this. By now the older dwarf could usually see how tired he was by counting the seconds between one blink and another.

  
Balin sighed at that, shaking his head and preparing to speak, as the door to the council chamber burst open and a tall, grey figure entered, two dwarfen guards hurrying after him to asses the damage.

  
"Apologies, m'Liege," One of them panted out, "but we couldn't prevent the wizard from entering." Thorin nodded quickly, flicking a hand absent mindedly, gesturing so that the dwarfs scrambled back out again.

  
Afore mentioned wizard scoffed, clearing his throat to get the attention of the assembled group. Thorin stood up straighter, looking at Balin pointedly. Once again, the older dwarf raised his voice and led the grumbling mass of nobility outside. "You, too, Fili." The heir grumbled, too, but his curiousity did not win over the need to sleep, which had him soon shuffling out the door, closing it finally with a thud.

  
"What news do you bring to Durin's folk, Gandalf?" Thorin watched the wizard's face closely for any clue. "It is not often that we welcome you in the mountain these days."

  
"It is good news that I bring to you, and only you, Thorin Oakenshield, today." The dwarf frowned, not knowing what to make of these words. "But before I can say anymore, we need to relocate to your chambers, for it is indeed a delicate and personal matter I will be sharing with you, and not meant for prying ears and eyes."

  
"Do you mean to say there are spies currently listening in on our conversation?" He was not alarmed, simply a tiny bit angry. Alright, very angry. The grey wizard was not impressed, however, and simply raised one bushy eyebrow. Thorin growled slightly, but bowed his head slightly, moving for a hidden door behind him that would surely lead them to the king's quarters. Gandalf had to crawl, almost, for the door was made for a dwarf in height, which lifted Thorin's spirits a great deal.

 

  
  
Bungo Baggins had really hoped that lunch would turn out to be a solemn affair, befitting the occasion, but his son's insistent chatter did not stop for a minute while they were eating. He had hoped Bilbo would take that final step towards maturity, but he guessed that his mother's side of family was to blame. The boy still had an air of purity around him, there was a sense of wonder and bewilderment in his gaze that he had kept since the moment he was born. And maybe (surely) because of that the hobbit couldn't help but be worried as they sent Bilbo off to the Thain.

  
 The young hobbit knew that he was behaving like a tween again, but he truly couldn't stop trembling all the way into town. He tried to avoid most of The Shire's residents by using usually unused pathways, not wanting to be looked at when he felt so utterly ridiculous in his new clothes. He knew his mother liked fancy clothes, but Bilbo came after his father in his desire for simpler things. He didn't even like the colour, he so much preferred the greens and reds on his clothing.

  
It was with a heavy heart and an anxious expression that he pushed open the door to the Thain's office, after looking around him a few times, and noticing the stares he was receiving. He hated how curiousity seemed to be the character trait every hobbit possessed. Inside, it was slightly warmer, a nice contrast to the light chill that had settled in sooner this autumn. On the wall was a row of uncomfortable looking chairs put, a few of them occupied by young hobbit lads and lasses. Bilbo sat down a bit farther away from them, noticing how everyone kept their distance to the next. The blond hobbit could practically feel the excitement thrumming through everyone, which only furthered his own nausea.

  
The hobbits came and went, until it was only him left, the only company he had was the secretary at the other end of the corridor, and her constant scribbling on a piece of parchment. The obnoxious scratching the feather produced was too loud in the otherwise silent space, and Bilbo tried to calm his erratic breathing down. Finally, after what felt like hours, the Thain called for him. The hobbit stood up, made his way down the corridor and slipped inside the Thain's office.

  
"Bilbo, my boy!" The old hobbit greeted him, offering a hand to shake, which he took. "Sit down, sit down."

  
"Hello, grandfather." He tried to smile, but only managed a grimace, again. Gerontius Took was bordering on 90 years old, but still did not seem to lose any of his spirit soon. His young wife kept him alive, or so it would seem.

  
"Ah, Belladonna behaved the same way you do right now. Brings some nice memories back. But I can see that you are ready to burst. Let me just go and get you your parcel." With slow movements and a low groan, the old hobbit stood up and went to a big shelf with many columns. He had to step up a ladder in order to retrieve Bilbo's item.

  
"Uff, your's is heavy, my boy. The heaviest today, I think." Bilbo literally jumped out of the chair he was perched upon and went to release his grandfather from his burden. As soon he had stemmed the whole weight, the air seemed to shift and crackle with tension, and his sole focus lay on the wrapped item, which suspiciously looked and felt like a book. A book about his intended, perhaps?

  
The young hobbit hardly noticed the old Took gently steering him out, laughing all the while, and seeing him off until he was 'round the hill.

  
  
  
As soon as the heavy door had closed behind them with a feeling of finality, Thorin felt shivers racing down his spine. He felt as if someone was looking straight at him, finding out about his deepest secrets, his darkest desires. He spun around in a circle, desperately trying to make out if something was hiding in the semi-darkness of his chambers that the fire of the fireplace and candles could not reach.The wizard behind him, which he had completely forgotten by now, huffed indignantly and set to light more of the candles. The time drew nearer that he had to make the announcement and the dwarf seemed uneasy in a way Gandalf had not yet seen.

  
His question of "Why don't you sit down for a bit?" was answered with a glare. The king merely continued pacing, sometimes growling at the shadows as if they had offended him personally.

  
"What is it then that you wanted to talk to me about? It is late and I had a very long and tiring day." Thorin sighed, although the prospect of going to bed alone again made him reluctant to actually follow his train of thought. The wizard bristled, but said nothing as he saw the sadness stealing over Thorin's features.

  
"Well, I had hoped to do this a bit more ceremonial, but seeing as you are so..."     Another glare, and Gandalf settled for: "agitated, I'll make it swift and painless."

  
Here, Thorin grew alarmed. "What, pray tell, are you going to do?"

  
"I came here today to announce you the name, race and location of your intended soulmate, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King under the Mountain." Now, the king had to sit down on the bed, staring unbelievingly at the wizard.

  
"Are you sure?" Thorin asked, angry at how unsteady his voice sounded. "My coming of age was almost a century ago, when you couldn't tell me who my mate was. Almost a century in which I believed I was to live my life alone. Why do you visit me now?" He cursed himself for asking, shouldn't he be glad that he finally was going to get a name?

  
"I presume that they are coming of age themselves, don't you think?" Gandalf amused voice cut through the noise in his head, and Thorin looked up again, when had he looked down?, and fought to swallow the lump in his throat.

  
"Tell me, Gandalf. I have waited so long for this." Oh, he was desperate. And Gandalf seemed awfully gleeful. He had probably known his mate's name for a very long, had loved to see Thorin despair- _no, no he wouldn't do that. He couldn't. It is his duty to make the announcements right on time, everybody knows that._ And as soon as he heard the words, his anger died out like the embers of a fire. The king shot a questioning glance at Gandalf, who was just as surprised as him.

  
"Gandalf? You heard the voice, too, did you not?"

  
The wizard smiled slightly. "It seems the time has come. May I introduce Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit of The Shire."

 

  
  
Bilbo was sure, absolutely sure, that he was not supposed to stand in the middle of a stranger's bed chamber, nor was he supposed to stand beside a wizard who was known for his fireworks and luring the Tooks out of The Shire because he told them about his adventures.

  
He was supposed to sit in his room, his item, his book perched on his lap, while he read about how Thorin Oakenshield, King of Durin's folk, got the name of his intended soulmate. Bilbo didn't sign up for this, whatever this was.

  
He knew for sure that he returned home, his mother's excited chatter and a rather nice stew welcoming him when he had opened the green door. He had not opened the parcel in front of his parents, instead he had almost run into his room and closed the door behind him. Lock it, he could not, and would not have even if he could. He trusted them this much.

  
In no time he had ripped the wrapping in shreds, pleased to be right in his guess that indeed a book had awaited him. Lovingly he had traced the title, written in a tongue so unlike his own, but had been as easy to read as if it had been written in westron. "Loyalty, honour, a willing heart...", he had murmured, entranced.

  
It was then when he had opened the book that his whole line of vision was focused on the face in the portrait that looked directly back at him. There was a male dwarf with a sharp nose and long dark, light eyes and no hint of a smile on thin lips that had greeted him. Although the beard was short, Bilbo simply knew him to be a dwarf, wondering what colour the man's eyes held. The stern brow told him that he either didn't smile much or worried a lot, probably even both. Where Bilbo was light, he was dark and where the hobbit was soft, the dwarf was all hard lines. He was gorgeous.

  
Even more so, Bilbo learned, when one stood in front of the dwarf. He was almost a head taller in height, and twice in width than he was and Bilbo was not small among his kin, thank you very much.

  
He finally dared to look into the dwarf's eyes, delighted to find them to be of a light blue colour, almost silver. They darkened, however, as they flitted across his face, and then lower, Bilbo noticed with no satisfaction. The hobbit had no idea for how long they had stood, facing each other, Thorin's hands suspiciously twitching at his sides, as if he refrained from touching him. Bilbo had rather hoped he would.

  
But, alas, there was more pressing busyness to do and so with a disgruntled expression, he was sure, he turned to where Gandalf was trying to leave the room.

  
"Oh no. No no no no. Gandalf. You stay. And explain what the hell happened." At his voice, the wizard winced almost guiltily. But that would be something new. Bilbo'd never seen him look guilty, anyway.

  
"My dear boy Bilbo-" Gandalf began, but was cut short by the hobbit.

  
"Oh no, don't my dear Bilbo me. I want an explanation, right now." He demanded, and saw Thorin shifting out of the corner of his eyes. He paid him no heed. He would later, if he had a say in that.

  
"That had worked so nicely when you were but a fauntling. Of course you had to grow up!" The wizard muttered, somewhat irritated. Bilbo simply shot him a glare and motioned with a hand for him to continue. "You see, the moment you touched your item, the both of your souls entwined. Since you are a hobbit and he is a dwarf, the magic had to find a way to combine both of your cultures, I guess."

  
"You guess?" Both, dwarf and hobbit said simultaniously, suspiciously, smiling awkwardly at each other.

  
"I can say no more than that. I suppose you need to find a way make this arrangement work. But that is not one of my concerns." Gandalf happily concluded, rubbing his hands together as he made another way out of the door. "Ah, before I leave." He turned around and addressed Bilbo. "It is only your soul that resides here, bound to Thorin's, and your body is still in The Shire. This way, Thorin still can make the journey and not get lost in the progress." Then, he was gone.

  
Silence fell, and Bilbo began to pace, pulling on his hair in frustration. "And what exactly am I going to tell my parents? Oh wait! I cannot tell them because I am in bloody Erebor!"Now, he was wringing his hands, only groing more restless as time wore on. "I can bloody well touch myself! I am solid!" He slid his hands over his body, eliciting a strangled moan and a cut off version of his name, and only then he registered Thorin again.

  
"Look, I can message your parents per raven. Don't you worry." The dwarf said, tentavely, slowly stepping closer. Bilbo nodded jerkily in response, too riled up to speak any more. "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service."

  
"Bilbo Baggins, at yours." It seemed so ridiculous now, bowing before someone you knew as well as yourself. But somehow, it wasn't. This was just the start of something bigger, and they both knew it, sensed it, tasted it in the air as they inhaled. And yet they didn't know a thing of each other, did they? There was a sense of familiarity growing between them, though, and helped the both of them calm down for a bit.

  
  
It was then that Thorin reached out, hoping indeed to find a powerful, beating heart beneath his palm, but all that he felt was a strange, unnatural coldness. He had felt it before. The spell of death lingered on his soulmate, which concerned him greatly, causing him to frown. There was a small hand covering his, and another one soothing the wrinkles that had appeared on his forehead. But still he could not feel heart thumping against ribcage, no puffs of breath ghosting over his face and no warmth awaiting him if he drew closer. In front of him was that which he had always wanted, and yet...

  
"What did Gandalf mean by me helping you to find your way? And what is that journey he talked about?" Bilbo asked, placing a strand of hair behind one of Thorin's round ears. The ears he felt burn as he carefully avoided the inquisitive gaze of a bright set of green eyes.

  
"When out of the mountain, I am a bit...directionally challenged. Yes, I think that is what they call it." He looked up again, expecting to find mocking, perhaps even laughter, but Bilbo's eyes shone with silent amusement and affection at this new tidbit of information.

  
"And the journey? Has it to do with the cultural differences Gandalf pointed out?" Thorin smiled slightly at that, the hobbit reminding him of his sister-sons with his curiousity. He slung an arm around the unresisting halfling and led the creature to his bed.  
"Perhaps you sit down for a bit and I will change my clothes, and then we'll talk? I had a long day."

  
"I know. I'm sorry I'm keeping you up so long." Bilbo said, hands braced next to him on the bed, his legs swinging as they did not reach the floor from his position. Thorin simply shook his head.

  
"Wait, you knew?" He asked, perplexed now. This evening grew steadily stranger and the dwarf had so much to do the next day, when didn't he have, honestly, it was a wonder he was still standing upright. Bloody wizard and his bloddy meddling. And he was rambling.

  
"I'll explain later. Now, hush and go. I'll wait here for you." Well, if that hadn't been an invitation, Thorin did not know what was. As he rushed through his routine, he dimly wondered if he should chew on some more mint leaves, if his hair looked alright without all the braids holding it back and why exactly he had those thoughts to begin with. He was considered attractive among his kin, but was he to Bilbo, too? The dwarf did know that he had a shitty personality, more so to people who did not belong to his family. He had always relied on his looks rather than his shining attempts at socialising. He sighed, running a hand through the dark tresses of hair. There was no helping it. Mahal help him, he had to be himself.

  
Upon reentering his bed chambers, Thorin was greeted with a very nice sight indeed. It was only the hobbit's coat that was missing, but he wore nothing but a white shirt, a few of the buttons loose as to reveal his collar bones, and his brown trousers that reached down midway to his shins. The same position minus a few clothes. Bilbo did a bit of looking of his own; sweeping his eyes over the mess of Thorin's hair, lingered over the naked expanse of skin under the confines of robe. Finally, their gazes locked and so the dwarf went and sat down next to the hobbit.

  
Turning to Bilbo so their knees were touching, Thorin began: "Every dwarf has the chance to find their soulmate. Many of my kin read it one day, perhaps, or hear it said on the streets, or in the markets. It is then, that fate decides to be cruel." He took one of Bilbo's hands in his bigger ones, cradling it, desperately trying to warm it somehow. "We forget. For a few years, we forget, until fate has deemed us apart enough from each other. And only then we remember, and only then we embark on a journey to find our soulmate."

  
"Gandalf only announces the names to dwarven royalty, then." Bilbo seemed thoughtful then, chewing on his lower lip.

  
"How did you know?" Again that knowing smile. Thorin was not sure if he liked it, yet.

  
"I'll come to that, don't you worry." The hobbit took a deep breath. "Well, all hobbits receive an item, an object if you so wish, on their 33rd birthday. And as is every hobbit unique, so is their item and the magic it helds. It helps us to search and eventually find our intended." He had played with the dwarf's fingers all the while, until he entwined them, smiling fondly. "My mother for example had been gifted a list, to tick off tasks she had to do in order to meet my father. Not so surprisingly, it was all the things she had always dreamed of doing."

  
"And your father?" Thorin prompted, wanting to hear the hobbit talk more. It soothed the disarray that were his thoughts, fully able to focus on the shorter male.

  
"He got a handkerchief. Letters would randomly appear on it through the years. The last one as he had met my mother and the letters then would result in my mother's name. One letter for every task my mother ticked off. Awfully romantic, is it not?" Bilbo sighed.

  
"And going on an adventure after the gods had driven you apart is not romantic at all?" Thorin asked, amusement glinting in his eyes as he eyed the hobbit's reaction. He would not be disappointed, it seemed, as Bilbo puffed up indignantly.

  
"Well, what do I know of dwarves? But I meant for Shire standards!" Bilbo threw a hand in the air, and would have both, if not for the grip the dwarf still had over it, and continued. "Most hobbits do not have to wait long. They usually have similar items as to easier find their intended or have the name already clearly written on them."

  
"And what about your...item?" Thorin held his breath, as Bilbo fidgeted. He briefly wondered if Bilbo was a blusher. The mental image presented certainly was a pleasant one.

  
"I received a book. It is called "Loyalty, honour, a willing heart", and I think it was written in dwarven runes! And I could read them! Isn't that great?" As Bilbo grew excited once more, constant chatter spilling from his lips, Thorin felt a bit overwhelmed. As the hobbit noticed the slightly horrified expression on Thorin's face, he stopped. "So sorry, bad habit of mine." His brows wrinkled in confusion, and his nose scrunched up; Mahal, he was cute. And Thorin had not found anything cute since Fili and Kili had grown out of their twenties. "Ah yes, it was a book. It was about you."

  
"About me?" The dwarf leveled a disbelieving glare at the wall. He didn't want to glare at Bilbo and accidentily frighten him. That had happened too often to risk it now. But the hobbit did not seem perturbed.

  
"There was a portrait right on the first page. You looked stunning, truly!" A light shade of pink settled across Thorin's cheeks then. It deepened, when the hobbit looked up to smile at him. "I read about the council meeting, and how you loath them. I actually read up until Gandalf announced my name and then I was sort of standing in your chambers."

  
"Well, that's... I don't have the adequate words for this." Thorin sighed. "Let's just retire to bed and we'll work on everything tomorrow." He stood and put out the various candles in the room, listening to the rustle as Bilbo no doubt rearranged himself under the heavy colours. His body was so cold, didn't he have to be freezing, too? As soon as he was finished, the dwarf let his robe fall to the ground and settled himself next to Bilbo under the covers.

  
"Are you cold, little one?" He asked, pulling the hobbit into his chest so he may rest his nose in honey brown curls. Bilbo twisted in his grasp and turned to face him, snuggling even closer still. He kissed the skin underneath the dwarf's strong jaw and tucked his head beneath his chin, smiling happily.

  
"No, I am quiet alright."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos and comments?


End file.
